And there it is. A white building with a staircase that reminds me of the entrance to the palace in Cinderella. A big sign in neat, round letters says MADRONE HALL. Mercedes doesn’t bother to look both ways but pulls me by my backpack straps across the road. “We made it.”

This is it. I stand at the bottom of the Cinderella steps. The building is fancier and newer looking than the others on campus. It has iron scrolls around the windows and a red roof. And our father is inside. A car drives past, making a clanking noise as it goes. A clump of students, each in ripped jeans, walks toward the parking lot.

I don’t know what a faculty meeting is, but it sounds important. My father, Francisco Gómez, is a person who goes to important meetings. And we’re going to meet him. I don’t know if I should be excited or scared or worried. All I do know is that this is one of the strangest days of my life. I squeeze my eyes shut and then open. No more black spots. I want to remember this moment forever, the moment before I meet my father. Beside me, Mercedes inhales like she’s about to say something. But she’s silent. Maybe she doesn’t know how to feel, either.

Together, we climb the stairs to the entrance of Madrone Hall.

I was the bridesmaid in my mom’s wedding. While Bob waited for the ceremony to begin, he kept pulling on his coat sleeves. I walked down the aisle after Lucas and Kenny, who stood by their dad. Last came my mom. I remember watching her walking toward us. She didn’t wear a veil, but she had tiny daisies in her hair. She smiled at the guests—our friends and a few cousins, plus Bob’s family members who had flown in from California. As she walked, the aisle in the backyard seemed to stretch longer and longer, and it felt like she would never arrive. I watched my mom and knew this was the moment that everything would change forever.

I know that this is another moment that can change everything. The steps to the entrance of Madrone Hall seem as endless as that aisle. But, at last, Mercedes and I reach the big glass doors.

She pulls.

“Locked?!” she screeches.

She yanks. She screams. All four of the doors at the entrance to Madrone Hall are locked. I press my face against the windowpane and shield the light with my hands. Inside the big open lobby is another set of doors that are also closed. Light streams in from a skylight. No faculty. No meeting. No students. Just a big, empty space. Empty as my heart feels.

Mercedes keeps pulling and pushing on the handles, first one, then the other. Then she kicks the doors, first one, then the other.